Nala's Mark

Entry for April 26 contest of Writer's Cramp Contest a poetry on the senses.

The outside of the door you already smell the stench.
The bladder let lose of the old bitch wench.
She pants she smiles
As we complain all the while
Wonders she does why we are mad
We know the deposit makes only our landlord glad.
Yelling and tapping her on the nose
Nothing inside the dumb dog’s brain grows.
Love her, care for her we must.
For even though our bank has gone bust.
The carpet stains are problematic.
But the miracle of nature is systematic.